


the moon, of course, is always there

by godsrevolver



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, Growing Up, Hurt, M/M, Sad Ending, Unreciprocated feelings, going off to college, sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsrevolver/pseuds/godsrevolver
Summary: The first time Ryan notices the new feeling he has for his best friend is in sixth grade.
Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	the moon, of course, is always there

The first time Ryan notices the new feeling he has for his best friend is in sixth grade. It’s dumb, just doing homework at Brendon’s house late at night, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it’s when Ryan catches himself glancing his way more often, studying the concentrated look on his face and the way the muscles in his hand move when he writes furiously with a pen. Or, maybe it’s when he finds himself playfully shoving and messing with Brendon just to be able to feel Brendon’s warm skin under his touch. 

The second time is in the summer between seventh and eighth grade. Brendon signed up to play rec basketball and made Ryan do it with him. Even though he complained most of the time, Ryan was secretly glad to get out of the house for a change. They would practice on their off days using the weathered hoop that stood at the end of their cul-de-sac, mostly working on their jump shots and defense until it was almost too dark to see. Maybe it’s when Ryan notices how his breath slightly hitches when he works on guarding Brendon to prevent him from shooting a layup, where he can feel Brendon’s weight on him as he blocks the ball from getting in the hoop. Or, maybe it’s when he watches how Brendon’s body twists when he sidesteps Ryan and jumps to make the half-court shot. He doesn’t know.

The third time is on the last day of exams sophomore year. Ryan’s old for their year and already has his license, driving them back and forth to school each day in the most beat up silver hunk of metal. He feels lucky to have an option to escape the yelling and shattered glass his father greets him with most nights, and Brendon is always willing to accompany him on a drive around town, talking about anything but reality. Ryan is thankful when Brendon agrees to join him at around midnight, hoping he won’t notice the cuts on his forehead or the way his hands shake as he grips the wheel when he makes turns. Maybe it’s when Ryan sees how he’s able to find comfort in Brendon’s presence alone, neither needing to say anything because they know, they’re used to this, and besides, Ryan knows his dad loves him at the end of the day. Or, maybe it’s when Ryan feels an unusual tightness in his chest when he can feel Brendon’s breath on him as he lets Brendon clean and bandage his cuts, just grateful to be able to stay somewhere safe until tomorrow comes. He can’t be sure. 

The fourth time is the night of junior prom. Ryan, despite working two part-time jobs in addition to school, couldn’t afford the ticket or the new tux he’d have to buy. He has to save all the money he possibly can before he graduates. Brendon was supposed to go, had a date and a matching boutonniere to her corsage and everything, but chose not to in the end. Ryan feels horribly guilty, but Brendon insists that really, it was nothing, he’d honestly rather spend the weekend playing video games or marathoning whatever was on TV with his best friend. Maybe it’s when Ryan can feel the butterflies ( _ butterflies _ ?) in his stomach when he notices Brendon fell asleep on his shoulder in the middle of their late night rewatch of Star Wars, Brendon’s body curled into his side, even though there was plenty of room on the couch. Or, maybe it’s when they both end up falling asleep right there with limbs tangled, too lazy and comfortable to go upstairs, and Ryan has to pretend he doesn’t feel how Brendon is half hard against Ryan’s hip. He’s lost track. 

The fifth time is a few weeks later, the summer before senior year. Ryan could tell in the morning that something was up with Brendon when he shut the passenger door a little harder than usual getting into the car on the way to their respective shitty customer service jobs. It’s nighttime when their closing shifts finish and Ryan’s car won’t start. Brendon is still clearly in a mood, and startles Ryan when he yells a swear and slams his fist on the dashboard in frustration. Maybe it’s when Ryan reaches over and rubs Brendon’s shoulder, a friendly, innocent touch, and Brendon grabs his hand to lace their fingers together before pulling their hands tight to his chest, and Ryan has to pretend like of course, this is normal, this is what friends do. Or maybe it’s when they’re sitting in Brendon’s driveway and Brendon’s eyes meet his after ten minutes of silence, and Ryan pretends like he doesn’t notice when Brendon’s gaze lowers to his lips, pretends like the kiss they both lean into hesitantly doesn’t make him warm all over, like Brendon’s lips are softer than he had ever imagined. He tries not to think about it after the fact.

  
  


The last time is the present, a week or so before they both have to leave for college, Ryan for UNLV and Brendon for UCLA. It still hasn’t set in yet for Ryan that they’re going to be in different states, four and-a-half hours away from each other, the furthest apart they’ve ever been. Ryan doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t really want to say or do anything that’ll break the comfortable silence between them as they lie in the field of their old elementary school gazing up at the stars, silently contemplating the changes to come and unsure of what this all means for them. Ryan turns to lie on his side and props himself up with his elbow, watching Brendon’s eyes trace the patterns of constellations. It takes Brendon a second to notice, and when he catches on he closes his eyes and gently shakes his head. 

“What?” Ryan mutters in confusion.

“Don’t do this, Ry,” Brendon replies gently, not opening his eyes to look at the other boy. Brendon moves his arms out from under his head and rubs his eyes with a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t do what?” Ryan says quietly, a hint of anger in his tone.

“This. We don’t do this anymore,” Brendon laughs.  _ Laughs _ . “I’m not your little toy to experiment with. I thought you knew that.”

“I never said you were a toy,” Ryan moves to sit up and hug his legs, resting his chin on his knees. “I just… I figured this meant something more to you.”

“You figured wrong,” Brendon says softly, opening his eyes to look back up at the sky and the stars and at pretty much anything except Ryan. He sighs. “Fuck, I thought I made it obvious after prom that this…” Brendon motions vaguely with one hand, “this game or whatever was over.” 

“It was never a fucking game, Bren,” Ryan replies, voice a bit louder but clearly angrier. Ryan thinks of the night when they ditched senior prom before a meal was even served. Ryan remembers being buzzed, still in a clear state of mind but maybe a bit more honest and forward than he usually was. He remembers how they ended up in the backseat of Ryan’s car, clumsy but earnest, and how fucking unreal it felt to have Brendon inside of him and to hear him moan his name. He remembers handing a piece of himself to Brendon that night, remembers how Brendon politely declined, and how devastated he was, how Brendon said it--

“It meant nothing.” Brendon sighs again and stands up, stretching his arms out before putting his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “It means nothing. It never did. God, if I knew how clingy you’d get--”

“ _ Clingy? _ Are you seriously--” Ryan stands to look straight at him, pretending it doesn’t feel like someone reached into his chest and ripped his heart out with their bare hands, focusing instead on not tearing up.

“Save it,” Brendon cuts him off with a hand raised to say ‘stop’. “I don’t want to hear it. Just… forget it even happened. You were drunk and desperate and I was lonely and felt bad for you. That’s all it was. It meant nothing.”

“Okay.”

“We’re gonna be in college, Ry. You know you don’t wanna be tied down to something from high school. You gotta do new things. Meet new people. Have fun.”

“Okay.”

“I’m still your best friend and I always will be. That’s never going to change. It’s just... easier to put all this behind us and move on. I really don’t want to lose you now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brendon looks Ryan directly in the eyes, and Ryan hates that he can feel the tears welling up, hates that he can’t help but break. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Brendon repeats with an almost pitying smile. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you on Thursday?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. See you then.”

Ryan watches him leave, hurt and confused how Brendon could say things like that so casually and walk away like it was nothing. Like nothing happened. Well, nothing did happen after all, Ryan thinks. He sees Brendon’s car pull out of the parking lot, leaving him alone. Ryan takes in a breath as the summer breeze blows gently through the air, and stands in silence for a few moments to listen to the chorus of crickets chirp. He can’t remember the last time he felt this alone. 

He makes his way back to his car, trying to understand what the hell just happened and how he’s ever going to face Brendon again now that he knows his best friend pities him and finds him pathetic. Ryan pauses before he opens the car door and looks back up at the sky one last time, takes it all in, memorizes every detail he can as if the stars and planets won’t ever be there again. He takes one last look at the moon, a waxing gibbous, before laughing to himself and getting in the car. 

If nothing else is constant, the moon is always there. 

**Author's Note:**

> ryden in 2020? couldnt be me. title from a richard siken poem.


End file.
